


A bit of Starlight cheer

by Caranraw Greyhame (Atrus)



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hastaloeya is technically not an OC but eh who cares, M/M, Male Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Roegadyn Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Starlight Celebration (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 08:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28348050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atrus/pseuds/Caranraw%20Greyhame
Summary: A Starlight ficlet for the holidays, slightly angsty with a happy ending. This ties in to my Life of an Adder Squadron stories, so if you’re wondering who this Hastaloeya guy is and how he ended up with G’raha,you might want to read this first.Many thanks to my friend Alex for the beta reading. :)
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch & Warrior of Light, G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Original Character(s)





	1. Chapter 1

“So this is Gridania under the snow, huh? It’s quite charming.”

G’raha Tia lost himself watching the festive bustle from his usual vantage point, atop the waterfall facing the Mih Khetto Amphitheatre: children were running to and fro, building snowmen and exchanging presents, all under the cheerful encouragement of the banners and lights and all manners of decorations adorning every possible available surface.

After a minute he turned to his right, feeling the weight of another gaze on him. 

“What?” he asked, returning the smile on his companion’s face.

“Nothing. Just looking at you.” Hastaloeya was sitting next to him, legs pulled up to his chest, and resting his head on his knees, “You had such wonder painted on your face, like you had not seen snow in a million years.”

“Hm. Not a million years, but a hundred at least. The seasons didn’t change enough to allow for snow during the constant barrage of Light in the First.”

Hastal nodded, cocking his head at G’raha. “I see. Regardless, you looked remarkably cute.”

G’raha yelped, blushed, and scooted back all at once, then blushed even more for his reaction. “What? I wasn’t- I’m not-”

The miqo’te thought he couldn’t turn any redder, but was proved wrong when Hastal leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Flushing as red as his hair, G’raha cupped the side of his face in astonishment. He couldn’t deny that he had been enjoying his time with the young Roegadyn knight, but the thought of acting on his feelings always set his mind reeling.  _ Too much time spent on keeping yourself apart _ , he chided himself.

A cloud passed over Hastal’s eyes, despite the smile pasted on his lips. “I’m sorry. I had thought that after these last few weeks, we-”

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong,” G’raha hastily cut through, “I’m just… I’ve never been good at this.” To prove his words, he scooted closer to the other man and snuck under his strong arm, wrapping it round himself like a blanket. “You would think that at some point I would start believing that people like me and want to have me around, but loneliness and low self-esteem are hard habits to shrug off.”

An onze of mirth returned to the roegadyn’s face. “As you have told me several times, Raha. I just wished…” 

Hastal trailed off, sighing, but G’raha didn’t need to hear the words to know what he had meant to say.  _ I wish you could return the gesture. I wish you could show your feelings. _

G’raha closed his eyes, resting his head on Hastaloeya’s chest. What  _ he _ wished was for his best friend to appear and magically resolve the situation by the sheer force of his unbridled optimism - but Starlight miracles didn’t really happen, did they?

“Rejoice, children, for the Saint of Nymeia has graced us with his presence! If you sit on his knees and tell him your wishes, he will make them come true!”

Both men yelped at the unexpected voice, and turned to see Caranraw hovering over them, sprigs of mistletoe dangling from his hands. The bard pressed a kiss on the top of their heads, and then plopped unceremoniously between them before pulling them into one-armed embraces. “I’m serious. Godbert is down there dressed in the full get-up. I never imagined that the Saint could crush heads between his muscular thighs, but I suppose it fits, since the original mythological figure was an Ishgardian knight.”

G’raha recovered first from speechlessness. “Uh- wha- What the hells are you doing here?” He almost bit his tongue, cursing his stupid words, then added, “I mean, I thought you were in Doma. Or Bozja. Or… somewhere, doing things.”

Caran laughed, making a few heads turn down below, looking for the source of the boisterous sound. “Being ‘somewhere, doing things’ is why I’m here. I was told that Amh Garanjy needed a little help with this year’s celebrations, and so I came running. Besides, I wouldn’t miss the Starlight festivities for anything in the world. Worlds.”

“And how did you know to find us here?” Hastal asked, having recovered the use of his words as well, only to yelp again when Caranraw suddenly pulled them both close. 

“You always come up here by the waterfall. This is the first place I check whenever you two disappear here in Gridania. Besides,” he smirked, “I have a little bird keeping tabs on you.”

“I’m gonna kill Nanasomi,” Hastal grumbled, though it came out quite muffled by Caranraw’s big, green scarf in his face. 

G’raha’s mind was still reeling, shaken by the sudden turn of events. He had wished for help, and help had come as if by magic. Oh, if only his summoning spell had been so swift - and precise - back in the First… 

“Anyway,” Caranraw continued, oblivious or wickedly uncaring of his friends’ embarrassment, “want to join me in helping spread some Starlight cheer around? I do believe it’s practically our charge - nay, our  _ duty _ \- as Scions and members of the Twin Adder.”

“Boss…” Hastal started, but G’raha cut him off again, sensing an opportunity. 

“We’d love to!”

All in all, the affair was a pretty mundane one. Starlight decorations were saved, Kamlito Halito found his holiday spirit, and the girl Isainne was able to celebrate with her family  _ and _ find the medicine for her ailing father. 

In G’raha’s opinion, it couldn’t be wrapped prettier if he’d put a bow on it. Surely spreading all that festive feeling must have helped with his dear knight’s mood as well, right?

Hastaloeya, however, didn’t seem quite as cheerful about the state of things as the miqo’te had imagined. In fact, he was standing at some distance from the joyous crowd and seemed almost annoyed and… resentful? 

“Hastal?” he moved to ask, giving a gentle squeeze to the roegadyn’s arm, “Is something the matter?”

The knight narrowed his eyes, scoffing at the question. “Are you serious right now? G’raha, we were having an important conversation, and you took the first opportunity to jump away from it and run around town with your godsdamned hero!” 

G’raha knew his ears had flattened against his head, just like his tail had gone wholly limp. “I… but… we went on this adventure together. I thought you liked helping people, and Starlight, and Caranraw, and…”  _ And me. _

Hastal pulled his arm away, G’raha’s hand falling at his side. “Gods. You don’t even see the problem.” The knight passed his hands over his face, groaning. “Of course I like all those things. You know how I feel about everything. What I would like to know is how  _ you _ feel. About us. About me.”

“You know how I feel!” G’raha was vaguely aware that they had been raising their voices, and more than a few heads had turned in their direction.

“Then why can’t you say it? Why can’t you  _ show _ it?”

Because I don’t know how. Because I’ve been carrying a torch for someone else for a hundred years. Because I’ve kept myself apart from anyone I ever loved, including Lina, and now I can’t do anything about it anymore. Because I’m an old man in a young man’s body. Because I’m afraid.

G’raha would have liked to say all of that and more, but his tongue had twisted itself up in a knot, and all that came out of his lips was a weak whine.

Hastal sighed, and something in G’raha’s heart cracked as he realized that his knight had expected that exact same lack of reaction. 

“Make up your mind, G’raha Tia,” Hastal said, turning on his heels, “You know where to find me when you do.”

G’raha remained paralyzed, doing his utmost best not to break out in tears as he watched Hastaloeya walk away from the arena and -possibly- his life. He was only vaguely aware of another set of steps approaching at his back.

“G’raha?” he heard Caranraw ask, voice heavy with concern, “What happened?”

“I messed up, my friend,” G’raha sobbed, “I really messed everything up.”

* * *

Mother Miounne herself deposited a large mug full of a fragrant and spicy brew on the table in front of him. “Drink up, kid,” she told him, “You look like you’re in dire need of some holiday cheer.”

“Thank you,” he answered half-heartedly, bringing the mug to his lips mainly out of courtesy. Something in the hot liquid running down his throat, however, seemed to melt part of his weariness away. Maybe it was the honey, or the cloves, or the faint cinnamon smell. Maybe it was that he needed to replenish all the water he had spilled in tears the moment he had found a hidden spot away from people. Whatever it was, he found to his surprise that he had gulped the whole thing down, making the proprietress of the Carline Canopy break into a cheeky smile. “Heavens, my Starlight tea must be even better than I thought. Don’t worry, boy, I’ll be back soon with a refill.”

G’raha turned his eyes away from her, blushing, only to meet Caranraw’s gaze. That was, possibly, even worse, because the mix of amusement and concern on his friend’s face was something he had never hoped to see again. He wanted to stand up for himself, to be of use, and yet, once more, he had turned up to be a burden in need of rescue. 

“G’raha,” the bard said, softly, “talk to me.”

The miqo’te bit his lip. Damn them, why did the two of them have to be so alike?

He turned the empty mug around in his hands a few times before replying. “It’s Hastal. I think… No, I know that he wants us to get serious. He… he kissed me on the cheek earlier today, and then I backed away in surprise, and then you arrived-”

“-and you dragged him into a quest instead of talking it out? Oh, my sweet Raha,” Caranraw shook his head, covering his face with a hand, “not even I am that much of a disaster.”

“I’m not good at this, all right? You know it! He knows it! He keeps pushing me but I can’t do it! Even if I want to do it! I…” he trailed off, leaning so low on the table that his hair dipped into the empty mug, “I need help. I don’t want to lose him.”

“Well, it’s a good thing that you have the Saint’s little -and big- helpers at your side, then!”

G’raha turned around, looking for the source of the new voice, and found the tip of a bow right in front of his face. He followed it down to a lalafell in a yellow archer’s outfit, waving cheerfully at him. 

“Nanasomi,” Caran nodded at her, “what’s the sitrep?”

“Oooh, Boss, I love it when you use soldier jargon!” she giggled, hopping onto an empty seat. “Well, Hastal is clearly a mess. He’s hunkered down in his bunk and even Gnawing Goat is steering away from him. What did you do to him anyway?” she asked, turning to G’raha. 

The miqo’te opened his mouth, but Caranraw answered for him. “It’s what he didn’t do, rather, that’s the issue.” 

G’raha wished he could hide his face into the mug for real. Perhaps he could complete his original plan, open a passage into the Rift, and throw himself in it to disappear forever. 

“Well, now that the culprit has been properly shamed, it’s time to think of a solution.”

He raised his head at that. “You… you truly think it can be fixed?”

The other two traded a look, and Nanasomi groaned. “Ugh. Gods give me the strength… Of course it can be fixed! The big lug is just waiting for you to go to him with an apology and the right words! It’s not that hard!”

G’raha winced, his hands closing automatically as if to grip his old staff. How many times had he leaned on it for support when his own strength wasn’t enough? 

“It is for me,” he whispered.

He wasn’t sure if the others had heard his words until he felt a strong hand lay on his head and messily ruffle his hair. He raised his eyes and found both of them smiling at him, Nanasomi going as far as to pat him gently on the hand. 

He asked himself what he had done to deserve such kindness from strangers, and an annoying voice in the back of his head reminded him that his actions had saved two worlds, and that made a whole lot of people grateful in his general direction. 

It was rather annoying that the voice was his own.

“Well then,” Nanasomi said, jumping down from the chair, “I’m going back to the barracks to try and do some damage control while you boys try to find a way to make it a little less hard. See you later, Boss. And by the way, if I have to do emotional work for all the stray puppies you adopt on your travels, I’m telling you right now that I want a raise.”

G’raha hadn’t thought that he could feel any sort of joy in the wake of all that happened, but he found himself laughing after the archer had gone. “Gods, so that’s the famous Nanasomi? Hastal’s description doesn’t half do her justice.”

“Oh yeah, she’s going to become an excellent captain one day. I just have to remember to earn myself a promotion before she outranks me, or she’s going to make me tremble under her rule.” Caran flashed him a grin, then turned somber once more. “So… shall we take this somewhere more private?”

Miounne chose that moment to put a newly-filled mug in front of G’raha along with a room key, and he nodded his assent. “I do believe that’s our cue.”

The room looked just like any other at the Canopy, if perhaps a little cleaner, with bedsheets a little less worn, and fresher flowers. Small touches to give the Hero of Eorzea a better stay without making him feel guilty for occupying a room rent-free.

G’raha was sitting on the edge of the bed, tail swishing, while Caranraw fiddled with the orchestrion, finally settling on a loud yet soothing tune of Eastern feel. 

“There,” the bard said, sitting beside him, “I actually wanted to give you the latest version of  _ Tomorrow and Tomorrow _ as a Starlight present, but the orchestrion roll is not quite done yet.”

G’raha smiled despite everything. “You’re still working on that song? I thought that, with Elidibus gone…”

“It’s still needed. I still want the whole world to know the truth about Ardbert and his friends. This world, too.” Caran closed a fist over his heart, and though G’raha knew that the soul didn’t really reside in that organ, the gesture was clear: as a part of Azem’s sundered being, as a Warrior of Light, and as a friend, Ardbert mattered to Caranraw in a way that words could scarcely convey. “But this is not about me, or them. It’s about you and that other dumb oaf I care about. So tell me: why can’t you tell him the very obvious fact that you care for him too?”

G’raha lowered his eyes, fixing his gaze on his restless hands. “I… I don’t know. I want to. I want it more than anything. He’s been nothing but kind and patient, but when the time comes to say the words or show him my feelings, I just… freeze.”

Caran tilted his head, frowning. “Just like you can’t bring yourself to say my name?”

G’raha blushed. Twelve above, could he do just one thing right by the people he loved? 

“Kind of, yes. It’s a measure to distance myself, to avoid letting people in. At first it was to prevent people from finding out who I really was, so that you wouldn’t do something stupid like try to save me from the fate I had chosen,” the once-Exarch smiled, thinking of how that turned out in the end, “but now it’s just an automatic reaction to anything that might force me to really open up with others… to live my feelings to the fullest, but also to get hurt.”

He felt himself pulled into another embrace, and this time he didn’t resist it. Caran’s hugs were one of the few things that kept him steady whenever the anxiety of working with the Scions - of  _ being _ a Scion - threatened to overwhelm him. 

Gods, what if Hastal thought that there was more going on between him and Caranraw than what he had told? The thought was almost enough to send him into hysterics: his own fears had prevented him from making any sort of progress with either man, let alone favor one at the expense of the other. 

But was there any truth to that concept? He had spent a hundred years waiting for Caranraw, after all, whereas he had only known Hastaloeya for a few scant months. Was he subconsciously letting his hero crush influence his actions? The fact that Hastaloeya shared his same feelings for the Warrior of Light only made matters worse, since he knew all too well just how strong that adoration could be, and how blind it could make someone.

Either Caranraw had learned to read minds or G’raha’s thoughts were clearly showing in his posture, for the man loosened their embrace and shifted subtly away. “Raha… If you want me to take a step back…”

The miqo’te shook his head. “No. I still have to broach that topic with Hastaloeya, and it will be a whole different bag of phookas to wrangle, but you have nothing to do with this. This is all me, and my inability to find my words.”

“Well then,” Caranraw tapped his lip with his thumb, “if that is the issue… perhaps you can say the same thing without words?”

G’raha blinked, plans suddenly taking shape in his mind, faster than he could keep track of. “Caranraw,” he said, jumping to his feet and planting a kiss on the stunned bard’s brow, “you’re a genius. Come now, there’s not a moment to lose!”

* * *

Vorsaile Heuloix, Serpent Commander, had come into his position thinking that he had seen everything that a life in the Adder’s Nest could possibly surprise him with. 

That belief had been turned upside down when the Warrior of Light’s squadron had tested his resolve over and over, but now, after years of their antics, he was sure that he had really, truly seen it all.

All, except a red-haired miqo’te standing in front of the barracks, holding a portable orchestrion over his head and blaring music at full volume. 

He pondered for a moment whether to intervene or not, then he thought of the bottle of mulled wine waiting for him in his office and turned heel without a word. 

“Hastaloeya!” G’raha cried over the din of the music, holding the music player up high, “Come on out! I want to talk!”

Minutes passed, and G’raha Tia started feeling rather silly just standing there, with an ever-growing number of people stopping to stare at him. What if it didn’t work? What if Hastal had already grown tired of waiting and didn’t want to talk to him anymore? What if-

The door to the barracks slammed open. “What,” Hastal growled, words slurred with sleep, “is that infernal racket, G’raha Tia?”

“It’s, uh, last year’s Starlight Choir? I’m sorry, there’s only so many orchestrion rolls that can fit in this thing.”

To his surprise, Hastaloeya didn’t slam the door close on his face. “Well, that certainly got my attention. Say your piece and go.”

“Not here.” G’raha lowered the orchestrion and turned it off, then offered his hand to Hastal. “Humor me one more time. Please?”

The knight stared at the hand as if it were a foreign object, then sighed and turned. “Let me get my boots.”

G’raha closed his fist and pulled it back. Well, it wasn’t going swimmingly, but at least Hastal was willing to hear him out. That was a start.

“G’raha, I’m really not in the mood for a walk. You said you wanted to talk, so-”

“Hush for a minute. We’re almost there, and this is how I can talk.” G’raha pulled Hastal through a patch of trees and into a moonlit clearing, then bade him sit on a large stump. Raising the new staff that Tataru had made him, he called to his magic and conjured snow - snow on the ground, snow on the trees, snow gently falling on them.

The knight looked at it all for a moment, confused. “G’raha, this is really nice and all, but-”

“Hush, I said. I’m not done.”

From his bag, the miqo’te produced a hastily wrapped Christmas present. He knew the paper was badly cut and the ribbon was a disaster, but he didn’t have the time or the nerves to redo it better, so the messy parcel would have to do the job.

Hastaloeya took the present, weighed it in his hands, weighed the curiosity to see where G’raha was going with all that versus the desire to go back to bed, sighed, and opened it. 

“A striped scarf?” he wondered, “And a matching cap. They look very festive, I’ll admit, but…”

The roegadyn raised his eyes and saw that G’raha had worn a similarly matching set - no, an identical one, the huge scarf covering most of his face and leaving only his eyes visible. 

G’raha closed the distance between them and, raising himself on his toes, wrapped the scarf around Hastal’s neck. When the miqo’te couldn’t quite reach to put on the cap, Hastal lowered his head and let himself be behatted. 

With all that done, he sighed again and took G’raha Tia’s hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs on his palms. “G’raha, does this have a point?”

The miqo’te nodded. It was now or never. “Yes. This is the point. There are things I still cannot say, and things I still cannot do. But I can do this, and I can say this. I want us to wear matching outfits. I want us to hug and dance under the snow. I want to go on grand adventures with you, just the two of us or with the people who matter to us. I want you to get mad at me when I'm stupid so we can make up later. And one day, hopefully sooner than later, I hope I can return your words and your touches without my stupid fears getting the better of me. But in the meantime, that's what I truly, really, wholly want: to be with you, right here, right now, and to go down this unwritten future together.”

With the last of the words out, G'raha snapped his mouth close and lowered his head. He had poured all the strength he had left in that speech and had barely any left to keep standing. His hands were trembling like leaves. Gods, Hastal surely thought he was an idiot now and was just trying to find a way to let him down gently and-

Two big, gentle fingers pushed his chin up, and his eyes focused onto a tender smile. 

“I love you too, Raha.”

This time, falling into the kiss was the easiest thing he had ever done. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BONUS SCENE!

"Aww," Nanasomi said, chin propped on her hands, "that's so cute. They're so cute. Remind me to get in the matchmaking business if this whole Adder thing doesn't pan out." 

"Think we should tell them we're here?" 

She turned and smacked her captain on the back of the head, with surprising strength for someone her size. "What? No! Are you crazy? No! They're having a romantic moment!" 

"So we just stare at them from behind these trees like a pair of creeps."

"Exactly! Whoops, they're taking the scarves off. I guess that's our cue to leave." 

Caranraw grinned. "I didn't make you for a prude, corporal." 

"Find me two hot lalafells and I'll show you how much of a non-prude I am, captain." 

"Ew. No offense, but ew." 

"Likewise. Anyway, let’s go celebrate with some mulled wine. I found a bottle in Heuloix’s office that we can heat up.”

“Sure he won’t mind that you ‘borrowed’ it?”

“Eh, he probably has a crate of it stashed in the back.”

Caranraw chuckled. "By the way, when do you think that G’raha will realize that he finally called me by my name?“

“Soon, I hope. You need a regular lay that doesn’t live on the other side of the planet. And by the way things are going, that may soon be _two_ lays.”

“I take back what I said about the prudishness.”

“Oh wow, now the hats are coming off too! Whoop whoop whoop!”

“Oh shite, they heard us!”

“Run, run, _run_!”


End file.
